


Through the Eluvian

by Advena_Phillips



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Magic, Slice of Life, eluvian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Advena_Phillips/pseuds/Advena_Phillips
Summary: The Warden-Commander and the Witch of the WIlds stand before the Eluvian, ready to step through into a new world belonging to neither the Fade nor the Walking World. However, what they find upon entering is not what either of them expected. Now, stuck in a new world with little knowledge and new bodies, how will the two hope to survive in a school filled with teenagers.





	1. Chapter 1 - Through the Eluvian

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found on Fanfiction.net at :https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12654779/1/

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

If Harry Potter were to guess when thing went wrong, he would have said, 'The day I was born'. No, it was not a statement born from nihilism self-hate, but a fact. Almost a year after his birth, a psychotic wizard killed his mother and father, then tried to kill him. The curse used backfired somehow, but it was that day that everything went downhill for him. Promptly, he was shipped off to his Aunt and Uncle's house where he spent the next ten years acting as their ghoulish manservant who lived in a cupboard under the stairs.

Now, here he was, a few months from his twelfth birthday. He still had all his bits and pieces attached, which was quite astonishing considering what he had gone through from July last year to today, the fourth of May. From fighting a troll on Hallowe'en to smuggling a dragon out of the school which ended with him nearly being killed in a forest aptly known as the 'Forbidden Forest'. Of course, the year has several upsides, such as learning about magic, to finding out he was rich and had been accepted into a prestigious school of magic, not only that, but he made the sports team.

And now here he was, standing in a firelit chamber, trapped with one of his teachers who happened to be possessed by the wizard who happened to be the root cause of all his problem. That did not even consider the dangerous protections he and his two friends had to bypass to enter the chamber which included a hungry cerberus, deadly plants, killer keys, homicidal chess pieces, a massive troll and a poisonous riddle.

Before him stood the gilded Mirror of Erised which would show his heart's desire and, somehow, reveal the entire cause of this escapade, the Philosopher's Stone. An alchemical artefact so powerful that it could create gold and the Elixir of Life Yet. despite the gravity of the situation, his mind was split in two; one, repeating the words 'I must lie,' over and over again like a mantra; while the second was praying to any deity that might be listening to grant him a hero.

It was not the first time he had wished for such, as there were the ten years he had spent in the hands of his Aunt, Uncle and cousin. All those years spent locked up in a cupboard under the stairs, wishing for someone to swoop in and save him. There was also that time when he wished for someone to come save both he, his friends Ron and Hermione from the massive troll who wished to make them paste on Hallowe'en night. And finally, there was the time in the Forbidden Forest, but that wish actually came true in the form of a centaur named Firenze.

But then a third part of him showed its face, a selfish and shameful part that wished Hermione and Ron would burst through the flaming archway, wands up and ready to save him from Professor Quirrell – or rather Voldemort Possessing Quirrell.

So, with these thought mingling within his mind, he looked into the mirror and tried to think of a lie that would convince the Dark Lord to spare him. Unfortunately, upon looking in the mirror, his mind blanked.

What he saw in the mirror was so unexpected he could not help but perform a double take. During Christmas when he first encountered the magical mirror, it was shown his family; his desire to be with family. Here, in what might be his final moments, he did not see his mum and dad with the entirety of his extended family smiling sadly at him, but neither did he see the Philosopher's Stone, which he could consider a positive of this.

No, instead he saw…

"What is it?" Voldemort hissed in his high-pitched voice, obviously noticing the slack-jawed expression on Harry's face, "What do you see?"

"Girls?" he blurted in shock, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. Honestly, he was confused. This was what he desired? Two Girls? He did have to admit they were quite pretty, but Fred and George had told him that he would not find girls interesting until he was at least thirteen!

Then, as if the universe were to challenge the idea that thing could not possibly get any stranger, the two fell  _out_  of the mirror, collapsing on the ground with large sticks by their sides. Harry could not help but look to Quirrell for help, but upon reaching his eyes, he found the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher looking just as confused, if concerned, as him.

The first was dressed in practical robes of red, grey and blacks with armour on her wrists and chest. Aside from her outfit, she was… exotic. Exotic would be a good word. Large steel grey eyes which looked around the room quite confused – apparently ignorant of both Harry and Quirrell. She had long black hair that was intricately braided revealing two long pointed ears, reminding him of Santa's elves.

The second, on the other hand, was dressed in… well. Harry was not sure what it was. The tattered and worn skirt and pants he could understand, but the strange shirt – which was pretty much a ring of purple fabric over a black bikini top, covering what needed to be covered and little else. She also had quite a few pretty necklaces and a book and dagger tied to her waist. The girl herself was also quite pretty with slender and elegant features that looked quite nice with her short black hair and amber eyes.

They looked a bit similar, like sisters with just a few differences such as the ears, nose and eyes. It was strange, and funny the more he thought of it. Two sisters dressing up in their parents' clothes.

…

Warden-Commander Neria Surana looked around the room with dazed eyes. She knew she was in some sort of firelit chamber, but anything other than that was difficult to comprehend as her head thumped quite painfully – Whether the headache was attributed to hitting her head or walking through an ancient and untested elvhen artefact was up for debate.

A groan to her right called for her attention and immediately her vision started to clear.  _Morrigan?_  She thought, looking at the girl who seemed to be starring from a similarly painful headache. Though upon her vision clearing, Neria found her mind blanking momentarily. Something was wrong, really wrong.

From what the Warden could remember from her year-long quest to defeat the tainted Old Gog, Morrigan was a lovely young woman and a frightfully powerful mage. She was not some eleven-year-old who looked like she had woken up in prison unexpectedly – It was worrying in of itself how terrified and confused Morrigan looked. The hair was the same, same with her amber eyes and attractive features… but she looked eleven! Not only that, but she could see some parts of the girl's anatomy that she really did not want to see as her normally provocative outfits seemed quite loose.

Ice suddenly filled her veins as she turned her eyes upon herself, finding that her own robes were hanging loosely from her lithe form. It seemed Morrigan was not the only one who had suddenly found themselves in the body of an eleven-year-old.

"What?" four voices' blurted, one belonging to a young boy, another to a man, and the final, and finally, there was Morrigan and Neria. Immediately, her mind kicked into gear. No longer was she an elf that had somehow found herself de-aged into the body of an eleven-year-old, but the battle-hardened Commander of the Grey and Hero of Fereldan.

Snapping to the source, she saw what appeared to be two people, one a messy haired boy and the other, a bald man. Both appeared to be wearing strange robes and one was holding a strange short stick in his hand. The two were currently staring at the Grey Warden and the Witch of the Wilds like they were the most peculiar thing in the world, which was quite amusing if she were to say so herself. Her hand, nearly on instinct, made a move to grab her staff, partly to prop herself up and partly for defence.

Nevertheless, before her hand could even touch the ironbark shaft of the glaive-like staff, a thin burst of silver light shot from the man's stick, slamming into the ground between her hand and staff.  _A miniature staff, then?_

"Quirrell, you fool, what is happening?" a shrill voice demanded, surprising Neria due to the fact that, after a quick cursory glance, nobody else was in the room. Plus, it sounded as if the voice was coming  _from_  the bald mage.

"I do not know, master." 'Quirrell' replied, keeping his stick trained on her.

"Turn around," the voice said. Quirrell bowed his head slightly and with a quick, but threatening, 'Don't move,' he turned around.

At first, Neria was confused as to why the disembodied voice would make the mage turn around, but upon seeing the back of his head, everything fell into place.  _An Abomination._ She hissed in her mind. She had never seen an Abomination look like that, but she could not mistake it for anything else. The man seemed to be possessed by a demon, however, retained control over his body. The face was pasty white, contrasting against the healthy pallor of the host's skin, and held several traits one would call serpentine. Two hateful red eyes practically glowed in the dim light.

However, before she could react to the Abomination, lances of lightning shot from Morrigan's fingers at the mage, only to be blocked by a shimmering silver shield summoned from the mage. With a single fluid motion, the shield vanished and from his stick, a bolt of red slammed into the Witch's chest, flinging her into the stone wall with a thud. She landed on the ground, motionless.

Anger swelled within Neria. Quickly, she pulled herself up from the floor and took a single, if uncoordinated, step. Her world blurred as her feet moved faster than humanly possible, until she tripped over her own feet, stumbled halfway through her Fade Step and tumbling to the ground. However, she had already accomplished what she wished and now sat behind the Abomination who was chilled by the sudden burst of cold that rushed through him.

Her hand quickly grasped the bladeless hilt of a sword, pulling it free and swung it wildly towards the man. Mana flowed freely into the hilt and from its tip, an ethereal emerald blade sprung forth, cutting into the knees of the mage. Quirrell screamed out in pain as the demon screeched curses, falling to the floor before they were decapitated by a quick if sloppy strike from her spirit blade.

Now done with the Abomination, she stumbled to Morrigan's side, checking her friend for a pulse and any injuries. Luckily, she was still alive with only a bleeding gash across her head and a few bruises. But before she could take a moment to compose herself, movement caught her eye.

The head of the poor soul was smoking, black and malevolent. Neria's hand went to her spirit blade once again, ready to cut down the demon should it show its face. The smoke soon condensed into a shadowy figure, reminiscent to the face that marred the back of Quirrell's head, rose up. It screeched hatefully at the Warden, speeding towards her before she summoned lightning of her own, striking at it, diverting it away from her and into the mirror which promptly shattered. An even louder screech of rage pierced her ears and the wrath fled the room past a barrier of black flames.

_Well… shit._

The room stilled as Neria stared at the Eluvian, horrified that her only way back home was shattered, scattered across the floor. That is until retching drew her attention elsewhere. The boy, who she had honestly forgotten about, was busy puking his lunch all over the floor, casting fearful glances at the Warden and dead Abomination.

Neria paused, the sudden realisation that she had probably given the poor boy nightmares for the week, once that she would probably feature in. Sighing, she shook her head of scant thoughts, trying to make herself appear less threatening, "Are you okay?" she asked.

The boy nodded weakly.

"Ah… sorry you had to see that, but it was the best that I could do," Neria said awkwardly.

The boy took a deep breath, "He… he killed my parents."

Neria blinked, honestly confused as to how to respond, "Your welcome?" It was moments like these that she wished she had spent longer with the little children at the Circle rather than in the books. "What is your name?"

"Harry, Harry Potter," he answered with a wavering voice.

Neria smiled in what she hoped was a comforting smile, trying to ignore "Hello Harry Potter, my name is Neria Surana, Commander of the Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The boy nodded weakly once more, his eyes trying their hardest to not look at the dead body that blood was currently pooling around. Fortunately, their awkward conversation came to an end upon the arrival of another.

An elderly man rushed through the black flames, seemingly dispelling them with a wave of a stick of his own. He reminded her much of the First Enchanter, Irving, yet seemed far older with strange gaudy robes and a white beard which was long enough to tuck into his belt. However, despite his what his dress and appearance might have said, Neria knew the man was a force to reckon with.

Bright blue eyes looked around the room, taking in the entire scene. He lingered on the corpse and Neria before locking onto Harry. "Harry!? What happened here, Harry?" he asked, rushing to the boy's side, though he always kept the Warden and Witch in his line of sight.

The boy moved to the aged man's side, all the fear disappearing upon nearing the mage. "It was Quirrell! He tried to get the Stone! He almost killed me but… she- she stopped him," he said, ending his babble weakly.

'Dumbledore' then turned to Neria, briefly glancing at Morrigan, and despite being the Warden-Commander, Hero of Fereldan and Arlessa of Amaranthine – and a damn good one at that! – all the elf could do was wave awkwardly and smile nervously.

"Who are you and where did you come from?" he asked, though she knew it was more of a demand.

"I am Neria and this is Morrigan." And as if her name was a spell, the Witch of the Wilds began to stir.

"Blast and Damnation," growled the girl, holding her bleeding head.

Relief filled the Warden, fussing over her friend, "Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding? You didn't break anything, did you?"

"Must you fuss like the old woman?" Morrigan growled in reply, uncomfortable with the amount of care she was being afforded. "I am fine, Neria."

Neria returned the poor attempt of pacification with a glare, "Don't lie to me."

"'Tis just a slight headache, and… well… this," she said awkwardly, gesturing to her unusually young body, "though it seems I am not the only one dealing with such an issue."

"So, I assume you are both alright to join me to the Hospital Wing?" Dumbledore said with a slight smile, drawing the attention back to him.

Before Morrigan could answer in her usual snarky way, as the Warden assumed she would, Neria said, "As long as we are not prisoners."

"No, no. I just wish to make sure you both are okay. That does look like a nasty gash. However, I do have many questions that I would like answered," the mage replied, extruding an aura of no-nonsense.

Neria and Morrigan exchanged a look, silently weighing their options. Though, as it quickly turned out, they did not need to think of it much as they really had no other choice. It was unlikely that they would survive if they chose to fight their way out as it was a stroke of pure luck that allowed her to kill the Abomination. With a discontent sigh, they answered, "We accept."

Dumbledore hummed, watching the two, "Those clothes seem a bit large on you, would you like some help?"

Neria nodded wordlessly, not really taking the question into consideration as she tried helping Morrigan up from the floor. It was not until she felt her robes shimmer before abruptly shrinking that she realised what had been done, and with a high-pitched squeal of surprise – from both her and Morrigan, as the Witch's clothes also shrunk. Now, instead of standing in oversized hazardous clothes, the two wore clothes that fit almost perfectly, only a bit looser at the front due to lack of breasts.

However, instead of thanking the mage, Neria spun around on her heel, her hand on her spirit blade, ready to attack. "What was that!?" she demanded, trying to sound intimidating despite how  _childish_  her voice was. Shrinking objects like that should have been impossible without a liberal use of Lyrium… or Blood Magic. Yet there was no sign of either.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked amused by their reactions. "Your robes should fit nicely now, though I must say, I would like a few words with however chose your outfit, Morrigan."

Morrigan scowled, looking quite adorable despite the gash. "'Tis I who chose my garb, you old fool," She hissed, adjusting her robes.

Deigning to answer Morrigan's words with a disapproving stare, he quickly waved his wand towards the corpse, materialising a white cloth to cover the remains. And again, her interest spiked as that feat should have been impossible, this time truly impossible even with assistance. Despite the violent urge to ask, she held back thinking it was unwise to ask how he broke the cardinal rules of magic.

Instead, Neria collected her staff as Morrigan fetched her own, using them to help them follow Dumbledore and Harry out of the room. As they travelled through chamber after chamber, Neria and Morrigan found themselves curious to the sights they saw; a massive giant-esque creature which lay unconscious; a giant chess set; flying keys; and a strange wriggling plant Dumbledore subdued with his stick. With another wave of his hand, a rope ladder fell from a trapdoor in the ceiling, allowing the three to climb up and up and up until they entered another chamber.

But it seemed that the curiosities did not end with the strange plant.

"What in the Maker's name is that!?" shrieked Neria upon spotting the large three-headed dog which appeared to be sleeping.

"Fluffy is a cerberus," Dumbledore supplied with an amused glint in his eye.

Neria gave Dumbledore a queer look, "Fluffy? Who names something like that 'Fluffy'?"

Morrigan smirked, muttering "Barkspawn?" just loud enough for Neria to hear.

Immediately Neria retorted, her Ferelden pride getting the better of her, "Leave Barkspawn alone! I thought it was a wonderful name."

"You listened to the advice of a fool and a beast," Morrigan replied, "I am still surprised that you did not call the beast 'Dog' or 'Rabbit'."

"That was one of Alistair's ideas, actually," Neria mumbled.

Morrigan sighed, "Of course."

Still smiling, Dumbledore said, "Our groundskeeper gave Fluffy his name, though could we continue? I would rather not be forced to subdue it again."

Just to further prove his point, the three-headed dog snorted in its sleep, startling the Warden who was ready to trap the beast within a paralysing force field. With that, Neria followed Dumbledore out of the room as fast as she could, down a hall until they reached a grand stairway filled with many staircases which allowed access to several different parts of the building, up seven different floors – eight, if the ground floor counted. What looked like hundreds of paintings covered the walls, most if not all of sleeping people. From where she stood, she saw that they were on the third floor of whatever building they were in.

But before the quartet could begin stepping down the stairs, Dumbledore stopped them, "While I usually allow the students to figure it out themselves, I must warn you about the stairs."

"Are you to tell us the stairs move on their own?" Morrigan asked curiously, staring up at the roof of the massive room.

"Precisely. How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because they are," she said, pointing upwards to where Neria could see two staircases moving of their own violation.

Neria hummed at that, her curiosity growing exponentially at the amount of magic that must have been pumped into the castle. "At least we don't have to solve a potentially dangerous puzzle to get past."

"Did your school have that?" Harry asked incredulously.

Neria froze, "School? This is a school!?"

"Yes, this is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Dumbledore.

"Do my ears deceive me?" the witch asked with obvious mocking intent, "Whoever was put in charge of naming this fortress should have had their tongue burned out. 'Hogwarts,' such a horrid name."

"There aren't any Templars here, are there? You are a part of the Circle of Magi?" Neria asked, ignoring her friend as dread suddenly filled her.

"No. The Templar Order disappeared a few hundred years ago," Dumbledore answered, staring at Neria oddly, "and I have not heard of the 'Circle of Magi.' Am I to assume this was your school?"

"Something like that," she replied darkly.

Dumbledore frowned, "Well, we can further ask these questions later. For now, let us get to the Hospital Wing."

Luckily, they did not have to worry about the moving stairs and soon arrived on the first floor. There, they travelled down another hall until they reached a chamber which looked to be a medical ward complete with several beds lining the walls and an irate Healer.

"Mister Potter, it took you long enough to get here," the elderly Healer said before her eyes flickered onto both her and Morrigan where they widened, "What happened? Dumbledore, who are these two?"

"This one is Morrigan and this one is Neria, Poppy," said Dumbledore, gesturing to them respectively, "As you can see, they need your special brand of help."

'Poppy' sighed, "You two, take one of the bed, I will deal with Morrigan first." Obeying the Healer, the two took a seat and watched as she tittered over Morrigan, who vocally expressed her displeasure with several unflattering comparisons to Wynn, the former Healer on their quest to end the Blight. Healer Poppy seemed ever unfazed by the Witch's comments as she tended to the wound. As she did this, several pieces of parchment flew over to her side with a quill and inkwell by their side. The quill went to work as the Healer flourished her wand, muttering intelligible words under her breath, soon finishing and analysing what was written.

Again, the Healer sighed. With a few more muttered words, the gash cleaned of blood and began healing. "Just a few scratches and the gash. You will be sleeping here, however, just in case."

"Yes,  _mother_ ," Morrigan scowled.

"Now, what about you, Miss…" Poppy said, moving over to Neira.

"Surana," Neria provided.

Nodding, Poppy continued, "Who performed the transfiguration?"

"Transfiguration?" Neria asked, confused by the term.

Nodding again, the Healer said, "Yes, who transfigured your ears and face?"

"I…uh… what?" Neria said intelligently, her hands moving up to her face and ears to make sure everything was okay, only to find nothing obvious. "What's wrong? Morrigan, is there something wrong with my face?"

"No."

"Are you saying your ears are meant to look like that?" asked Poppy, raising a curious eyebrow.

"What? Long and pointy?" Neria asked.

"Yes."

"Of course!" Neria suddenly hissed, glaring at the Healer, "I was born this way."

Taken back by the sudden outburst, the Healer quickly backtracked, "I'm sorry, but I must ask. Are you a half-breed?"

This only seemed to further incense the Elf who had received quite a bit of racism due to her status as an elf. "What!? Do I look like a half-breed to you?" she spat, standing up from the bed, trying to intimidate the mage.

"Calm down, Miss Serana," Poppy said, trying to placate the elf, "I meant no offence."

Neria held the apologetic gaze of the mage for a moment more, wanting to slap the look off the Healer's face. "Fine," she grumbled. Aside from her mood plummeting into the Void, her spat with the Healer was productive in learning something more about this new world. Elves apparently did not exist, or at least not in the way she knew of. This did not, in any way, improve her mood, though. In fact, it made the entire situation worse.

Nevertheless, Poppy proceeded to cast her spells on her before checking the parchment. At first, the Healer's brow creased as she read, before paling and gasping. "Ah, Albus?" she called, both confused and concern mixing into dread.

Dumbledore walked swiftly to the Healer's side, looking at the parchment over her shoulder. And soon enough, his features mimicked hers. "You're Ill," he muttered weakly.

Neria blinked. "What?"

"From the looks of this, you have a terminal illness. What sickness, I cannot tell," said Poppy, obviously worried for the girl.

"May I see?" Neria asked. The mage nodded slowly, handing the parchment to the Warden who began looking over it. The quill had drawn a pretty accurate depiction of her body with little labels and drawings depicting of her injuries and the illness. However, she ignored them and instead focused on the deep blackness that stained her centre with a little label that helpfully added 'Darkspawn Taint' with a small date for how old it was. Neria could not help but giggle at the sight. "Oh, no. You've got it all wrong. I'm a Grey Warden, that's…" she paused, looking to the ominous stain on her diagram's chest, "normal."

"And what is a Grey Warden?" Dumbledore asked.

"I… um. We're an Order of soldiers who are dedicated to fighting the Darkspawn," Neria said, before adding at their curious looks, "It's a long story. It means the 'illness' is completely safe and is supposed to be there."

"While this brings many questions, I only have one for this night. Where did you and your sister come from?"

For a moment, Neria was confused. _Do they… do they really think we're sisters_? But the next, she honestly could not care. They looked similar enough, so much so Alistair had commented on it a few times. Looking to Morrigan, she found the Witch just as confused as her, but at her shrug, she turned back to Dumbledore. "I… don't know exactly. Morrigan and I walked through the Eluvian, but I am starting do doubt that this is where we were meant to go."

Morrigan sighed. "As our eyes are not hurting due the abundance of bright colours," she said sardonically, gesturing to the bland stone and sterile sheets of the Medical Ward, "we have not arrived where I desired."

Neria, upon hearing this, sighed and pinched the bridge of her noes for a moment before grumbling, "We're lost, aren't we?"

Despite the fact that it was not a question and more of a statement, Morrigan answered in affirmative anyway.

Dumbledore looked between the two girls, a frown marring his face, "How about you get some rest here in the Hospital Wing, tomorrow we'll sort this out."

Neria had to agree. She needed time to calm down and get her mind in order, plus it could afford the time to finally speak to Morrigan alone. After Harry had been checked for any injuries, of which there were only scratches. The three were forced to rest in the Hospital Wing as the Healer wished to make sure they were alright in the morning, and they were supplied some gowns to sleep in. Dumbledore and Poppy soon left the room, attending to important business such as the corpse on the third floor, if she were to guess.

Nevertheless, Neria did not sleep, nor did Morrigan. The elf just had too many things on her mind, such as the lack of Templars, which had apparently been disbanded hundreds of years ago, to the fact that her traditionally elvish features were considered weird and abnormalities. That, combined with the broken Eluvian, made matters worse. And if only to continue her plummet into despair, she felt compelled to ask. "Morrigan?"

"Yes?"

"How are we going to get back?"

"Unless we find another Eluvian… no."

"Well, shit."


	2. A Troubling Meeting

One part of being a Grey Warden that Neria could live without were the dreams… well, and the short lifespan, but thankfully, she still had a few decades.

After the death of the Archdemon, the Mother and the Architect, her dreams had, thankfully, lessened in potency. Most of her dreams still held hints of the Blight, but a smaller number focused on them entirely. Usually, her dreams would be about some benign and strange thing, then out of nowhere a Hurlock would show up, or she would spot a tree or something tainted with the Blight. It was odd, but she got used to the strange Darkspawn related things, especially after the dream where an Ogre dressed ready for an Orlesian gala arrived unexpectantly. The sight was so hilarious that she ended up laughing herself awake – what made it worse was she was out camping with King Alistair at the time, he almost had a heart attack, thinking she was being possessed. Fortunately, she managed to convince the boy king between gasps for air.

Nevertheless, Neria realised, upon waking in the Medical Ward in the strange walls of Hogwarts, that her dream had been Blight free. However, after what she saw, she longed to hear the Archdemon screech bitter nothings into her ear. The dream was much less of a proper dream, involving her friends mourning her disappearance, thinking her dead. It was a sobering show as Alistair and the Circle constructed a monument in her honour, while the rest went off and did their own things, such as Shale dedicating her genocide of the pigeon population to her, or the Grey Warden's drinking themselves under the table. Then Leliana showed up, her sweet and lovely Leliana who continued to search, travelling around the known worlds and beyond to find her love.

Wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she pulled herself up from her bed and focused on the room around her. She could hear the buzz of conversation somewhere in the room, belonging to three children, two boys one girl. Her eyes, almost instinctively, landed on Morrigan, who was looking quite put out as the Poppy buzzed around her, while movement in the corner of her eye drew her to Harry's bed.

There, she saw three people, one being Harry, who was currently talking adamantly with the two other's; one a bushy haired girl who spoke quickly and with worry staining her voice, while the other was a lanky redheaded boy who was loud in explaining something to Harry.

While curious as to what had drawn the ire of her friend, Neria decided to focus on the two newcomers and their conversation with Harry. Unfortunately, she could not understand much as several terms she had not heard of flew over her head. Nonetheless, she did learn a few things, such as the names of the two – Ron and Hermione, for the boy and girl respectively – as well as the fact that the Abomination was apparently after some artefact known as the Philosopher's stone, whatever that was.

It was then her status as a member of the Waking World was discovered by everyone in the room. "Miss Serana, how kind of you to join us," the Healer said, moving from Morrigan's side to attend to her as she did the day before, "Do you feel any discomfort? Pains or numbness?"

Blinking at the question, Neria spread her awareness to her body, finding that she felt nothing abnormal or painful, aside from her youthful appearance. It was strange, sufficed to say, being trapped in a younger body, but after three years of being taught how to shapeshift with Morrigan helped her quickly adjust to the proportions. "I'm feeling fine."

Clicking her tongue, the Healer cast a few more spells using her stick. Or would it be called a rod, similar to the rod of fire? She mused, watching the floating parchment and quill work their magic. "Are you sure that this… that the Taint is safe?" Poppy asked, casting concerned glances to Neria.

"Yes, I am perfectly safe," Neria said, speaking the technical truth. Everyone in Thedas knew about the danger of the Taint, but she was sure the Healer would have a heart attack should she learn about ghoulification or the horribly slow death that affected victims. However, all this danger was abated by the fact that she was a Grey Warden and therefore negated most of the effects of the Taint. The only way the Taint would affect anyone in Hogwarts was if they drank her blood.

"For some reason, I don't feel reassured," muttered Poppy, looking back to the floating parchment, "How exactly did you contract this?"

"Grey Warden secret," Neria replied with a shrug, "It was voluntary, however."

A sigh escaped the aged woman's lips, reminding the Warden of Wynn, the designated Healer of her former team. "Well, aside from the Darkspawn Taint, you're perfectly healthy. Once I finish up with your sister, Mister Potter and his friends can escort you to the Great Hall for breakfast with the rest of the school."

"Is there something wrong with Morrigna? She's been awake longer than me, hasn't she," Neria asked, a crease forming on her brow as she turned to her friend.

"She's perfectly healthy," the Healer said somewhat exasperatedly, "I just want her to wear the spare robe. It is not right for a girl her age to be wearing such an outfit."

Neria could not help but giggle as she turned to see Morrigan's glare turn to a deep-set scowl. "Come on, Morrigan," she said good-naturedly, "Just this once?"

Now it looked more like a pout. "Just as I said at the Arl's estate, I will not change lest you wish me to set the castle alight!"

"Please, Morrigan, just for now?" Neria pressed, eagerly wanting to see Morrigan in something so plain and conservative as robes.

Morrigan could only hold the glare for a moment's longer before letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine, but I reserve the right to wear my clothes underneath!"

"That is quite alright, young lady," Poppy said with a kindly smile.

Once again, Neria could not help but giggle, the thought of anyone calling Morrigan a young lady was simply amusing. The Healer quickly produced a black bundle of cloth from a cupboard, handing it to the scowling Witch who stormed off after collecting her own clothes.

"Ah, now that's done, I have work to do," Poppy said, loud enough for both Harry and Neria to hear, "Go get changed and once your all ready, Mister Potter, you will escort them to the Great Hall for breakfast."

…

It seemed the robes of Hogwarts and the robes of Thedas were quite different. Unlike the robes she as used to, which were similar to dresses, Hogwarts robes were split down the middle, acting more like cloaks than anything. Buttons lined the top half of the split, which Morrigan deigned to not to button up, allowing anyone to see her usual outfit underneath. This may or may not have caused the three Hogwarts students current awkwardness as they were trying their damnedest to ignore the Witch. Neria was unperturbed by the sight, finding the de-aged Witch of the Wilds quite adorable in her new outfit, especially with her simplistic looking staff.

Neria, on the other hand, was free to wear her Grey Wardens robe without any changes. Designed similarly to the dress of the Grey Warden who recruited her, Duncan, as to pay respects to the man. Alistair had helped quite a bit to get it right, though it was coloured darker than his. It was also less armoured than the deceased Warden with only a Silverite cuirass, arm guards and plated boots with the usual griffon decals. In her hand, she held her own staff which was two-thirds ironbark shaft topped by a lyrium gemstone and one-third butcher's blade turned sword.

Then, there were the three Hogwarts students. Their robes seemed to be some form of uniform with them wearing a white button-up shirt with a strange neck… scarf… thing of red and gold. On top of that, were their robes which were lined in red, for whatever reason. The only thing that changed between the uniforms was a knee length skirt for the girls and a pair of black pants for the boys. He, like the other magi in Hogwarts, did not have a staff but something their miniature staff which they called a wand which was tucked somewhere in their robes.

Nevertheless, they had finished getting dressed, so it was time for food. However, before they could, one of Harry's friends, Hermione, smiled meekly and introduced herself, "So, um, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger."

Neria cocked her head to the side before smiling pleasantly, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Hermione. I am Neria Surana and this is my lovely 'sister', Morrigan. Morrigan, play nice."

Morrigan smirked, "Yes, 'sister'."

"I'm Ron Weasley, by the way," the other friend added, holding out an awkward hand.

Neria took his in hers and shook firmly, "It is a pleasure."

"Now that all the pleasantries are out the way," Neria said, "I was told that we had somewhere to be?"

"Yes, the Great Hall. We'll show you." With that, the two Theodosian were guided through the halls of Hogwarts once again. Unlike the night before, the two noticed several things around Hogwarts that drew their curiosity. For example, the paintings moved and talked just like real people. This was not too strange to Neria – though the movement was – as she had seen stranger things, including a talking cat and statue, it was only a curiosity. Unfortunately, unlike the strange encounter with the statue and cat, her first impression was not the nicest.

"You, little girl!?" one of the paintings practically screeched in an unpleasant voice. Neria had nearly jumped at the sound, spinning around with a spell on the tip of her staff, ready to electrocute whatever it was who thought sneaking up on a Grey Warden was wise. Fortunately, it was just one of the few portraits that hung around the school. The subject was an unkindly and arrogant elderly woman dressed in deep green and blue proper robes and a strange pointed hat. "What's wrong with your ears and face! Unsightly."

Neria could hear two gasps from behind her, but she ignored them. Anger from the night before returned and unlike that night, she had no reason not to act hostile. "I was born with these features," she hissed, "And it would be best if you keep to yourself."

The painting recoiled. "You're a Half-Breed?" it continued, sounding like she smelled something particularly foul, "How can Hogwarts let such filth enter these grand halls? Get out of m-" Whatever the painting was to say next, it could not as it began screaming in agony as, with a twist of the Warden's staff, it simply lit up in flames. Neria did not take her eyes off the artwork until it was nothing but ash.

"Wh… y-you burned it!?" Hermione stammered, looking quite surprised, outraged, and confused. "How!? What?"

"Blimey! You broke Hermione," cried Ron.

Hermione blinked a few times before shouting, "She performed wordless and wandless magic and destroyed a priceless piece of work!"

"'Twas about time." Morrigan said with a smirk, "'Twas starting to remind me of Mother."

"She burned a painting!" pressed Hermione.

"It was being mean to her," Harry said, looking a bit pale.

"I know, but she could have done anything else!" Hermione said hotly.

"Violence is the only language bigots like that understand, Hermione," spat Neria, giving a sidelong glare at the child, "What would you do if someone started calling you a knife-eared piece of filth?"

Hermione closed in on herself, looking partly scared and regretful, "Sorry, but you could have done something else. The paintings are priceless."

"It's just art," Ron said, "I bet that a week later, another image will take its place."

"Still! Ugh… fine, just try not to burn anymore."

"I make no promises," Neria replied coolly.

The group soon picked up the pace, renewing the walk down to the Great Hall leaving behind the terrified looking paintings who quickly sped off to share this new development around the school in record time. It was not even an hour later when every painting in the castle knew about the dangerous pyromaniac who was quite touchy when it came to her exotic features.

Oblivious to the rumours that spread like wildfire, Neria continued walking with her friend and the three students. They soon arrived at the Grand Staircase where they made their way down to the ground floor, encountering little issue aside from two magically disappearing steps which the Hogwarts students pointed out. Nonetheless, they reached the ground floor which soon bled into a large entry, if the massive double door that stood before a wide marble staircase was anything to go by. To the right – or left, had you entered through the main doors – was another double door, slightly smaller than the main doors. The doors were ajar and the smell of food wafted through to the quintet.

The Great Hall.

From the top of the marble stairs, she could see a few stragglers walking towards the Hall, dressed similarly to the Hogwarts trio, but instead of red lined robes, instead noting blue, yellow, and green lined robes. Most gave the two Blight veterans strange looks, but otherwise yawned and continued on to the Hall. Ignoring the looks, they descended the stairs and walked towards the Great Hall.

Upon entering, the Warden could not stop from letting her eyebrows rise. While the Hall was by no means the largest she had seen, it was certainly the most magical. Quite a few children and teenagers lounged at four long dining tables where a veritable banquet of food sat upon glittering golden platters. At the end of the room sat a dais where a fifth table sat perpendicular to the others. Yet, it was no the ostentatiousness of the tables that drew her eyes, but the ceiling above her. She could see what she would have mistaken for the morning sky if it were not for the faint outlines of the ceiling proper. It was as if the ceiling was made from glass, showing an illusion of the sky without having to face the elements.

But before Neria could be lost in thought about the magical theory behind the illusion, she felt someone tug her sleeve. "Come now, 'sister,' you can stare at the ceiling later," said Morrigan.

"B-but… look at it! Maker's hairy balls, how much magic went into building this place!?" Neria cried, gesturing to the entire room.

Morrigan sighed. "Perhaps you can find out once we've finished with breakfast."

Pouting, but otherwise listening, Neria looked around for Harry and his friends. She soon found him talking with a few of the students on the rightmost table, occupied slowly by students donned in red lined robes. Morrigan began following Harry to the table, with the Warden following soon behind, eventually taking a seat on the lightly filled table. Harry spoke to the other students, speaking of something or other, she could not really follow as they were using strange terms, plus the food was quite distracting.

But before she could begin to eat, a loud jovial sounding teenager called, "Harry, my boy!" in a fake elderly voice.

"Who are your friends?" another voice added, sounding suspiciously similar to the former.

Unfortunately, the teenagers who said this were currently standing behind Harry and Neria, having snuck up on them. This was unfortunate due to the fact that they had snuck up on the Hero of Ferelden. Her head snapped around, ready to start flinging lightning at the fools who were stupid enough to sneak up on the Warden. Fortunately, she reigned control of her reflexes. Two teenagers stood behind her, but any defining features to tell the two apart was difficult because they were identical twins. Identical twins who looked quite familiar with their red hair and freckles.

Harry had also turned to face the two, looking quite unsure about the question asked. "I… this is Morrigan and Neria. They… showed up unexpectedly."

"Unexpectedly?" asked the right one.

"Did you break into Hogwarts?" replied the left before shaking his head, "And they say it's the safest place on Earth!"

The right one frowned. "Oh, I know brother, I know. How safe could something be if eleven-year-olds could break into it!"

For some reason, Harry, Hermione, and Ron – who she was sure was related to the two redheads – squirmed uncomfortably at this comment.

"Neria, it appears that I miss Alistair."

"What, you'd much rather have king fool over these two?"

"Two fools can work off each other."

"'Fool'!?" the left said dramatically.

"You wound us dearly, my lady," Added the right.

"Ah, but we have not introduced ourselves, have we brother? Perhaps we should give the ladies our names!"

"Quite right, Fred."

"Quite right, George."

"So, let us introduce our-"

"Neria, do you happen to know any spells to silence these idiots?" pleaded Morrigan, massaging her temples.

Neria, who had been quietly bemused by Morrigan's growing annoyance, smirked, "But annoyance is one of the few emotions we actually see!"

"Twould be nice if you took my plight seriously. I came here to eat not listen to two fools prattle on."

Fred smirked, "If the lady wishes."

"We bid thee a good-day, then." And with that, they walked off and sat further down the table where they began talking to their colleagues and eating.

Sending a final scowl to the twins, Morrigan turned back to the open banquet and began to fill her plate with strange breakfast foods. Neria joined soon after and quickly found herself enthralled with the wonderful taste of the food and drink, which was quite sweet. But, of course, their enjoyable breakfast ended prematurely as the bushy brunette asked, "So, how did you come here?"

"I don't know, we just…" Neria really had no way to describe how she and Morrigan showed up and explaining the Eluvian sounded unnecessary. So, she said, "showed up and saw Harry being attacked by a Maleficar."

"A Maleficar?" Hermione asked.

"People who use forbidden magic," the Warden explained.

Ron blinked. "So… it's true?" he asked, paling, "You killed Quirrell."

Giggling, Morrigan said, "Yes, 'Tis amusing how quickly we get to the killing."

"Andraste's dirty knickers," Neria sighed, hiding her hands in her hands. She could hear the gears spinning in Harry's friends as they tried to understand the full meaning what Morrigan said. Then came the horrified gasps from Hermione who, and the Warden could just tell, was looking at Harry's face which would have told the mage all she needed to know.

"You… what?" Hermione said, probably gaping like a fish.

Fortunately, Hermione could only gape at Neria and Morrigan as an old lady dressed in black and green proper robes arrived looking quite stern. "I am Professor McGonagall," she introduced, "and Headmaster Dumbledore requests your presence. That includes you, Mister Potter," the woman said officially.

"What about us?" Ron asked, his mouth partially filled with food as he gestured to him and Hermione.

"Please finish what is in your mouth before speaking, Mister Weasley," the Professor said, before adding, "The request was only for Mister Potter and the two Misses Serana."

Unsure, Morrigan and Neria got up from their chairs and walked to Professor McGonagall. Harry said his goodbye's and see-you-laters to his friends before following the Blight veterans.

Once again, through the halls, Neria and Morrigan were lead with Harry following worriedly behind. They went back to the Grand Stairwell where they experienced for the first time, the uncomfortable surprise of the moving stairs firsthand. They were then deposited nicely before a door, which was where they needed to go if the fact that the Professor escorted them through the door and down a passageway.

Soon, their journey ended right in front of a large stone statue of a gargoyle. At first, confusion reigned as Neria and Morrigan wonder why they would stop here, which was mirrored by even Harry who had walked these halls more than them. That was when the elderly woman intoned, "Gummy Bears."

Before the three could react incredulously to the phrase, the gargoyle burst to life, jumping aside to reveal a tight spiral staircase that moved around like… well, a spiral. Harry responded with a smile filled with wonder, while Neria had a flashback to Orzammar and the golems and once again had to restrain herself from unleashing her magic.

McGonagall stepped past the gargoyle, beckoning the three to follow as the staircase took her up and up.

Just as with the Grand Stairwell, the feeling of having the ground move from underneath was unnatural to the two Blight veterans, but not too uncomfortable. Eventually, they found themselves before a wooden door with a birdlike knocker.

Without any prompt, the door opened on its own. Taking a few steps into the room, Neria found herself in an odd room filled with many magical artefacts. The room was split into three parts with the first being filled with paintings and silver curiosities that moved and puffed smoke with walls lined with many ancient tomes. The next was elevated a good foot higher than the first, with a large eagle motif desk where she saw Dumbledore sitting, looking pleased with their arrival. Unfortunately, she could not see the rest of the office as her eyes locked onto something red and gold that was speeding towards her like a living fireball.

This time, Neria did not hold herself back as she summoned ice to her hands, unleashing a wave of frost to freeze her would be attacker. The red creature froze, fell short, landing on the ground with a thud. Not even stopping in her movements, she brought her staff up, ready to defend herself or maim something.

Morrigan had taken a similar stance, a magical ball of energy levitating in her hand, glaring at the two elderly magi while Harry stumbled back, confused and fearful.

McGonagall and Dumbledore, on the other hand, had reacted in similar ways as Neria and Morrigan. Dumbledore's expression darkened considerably, standing up from his desk with his wand pointed at Neria while McGonagall looked confused, holding her wand in defence.

Neria glared at Dumbledore, only looking away to get a proper look at the thing that attacked her. It was a bird. A big bird, beautiful with red and golden plumage. It squawked angrily at the mage, but could not do anything due to the ice that encased it. "What is this, Dumbledore? An attempt to attack me by surprise?" she asked dangerously, ready to unleash fiery hell upon the room should the need arise.

"Fawkes is a Phoenix," he replied coolly, "They are magical creatures known for their adversity towards dark and evil entities. They are generally peaceful, but for them to attack you as Fawkes did you, they would have to sense an immense amount of evil within. What are you?"

Neria did not reply right away, mulling over the information provided. The Phoenix certainly did not look like any phoenix she had seen, but then again, this was a different world. As for the entire 'detect evil' thing, she was not sure what to think. She did not consider herself evil; she hated oppression and slavers with a passion, she fought against bandits and rapists and more importantly, she was a Grey Warden! Even the Chantry knew the sacrificed involved with being a Warden.

Then it hit her. "It's the Taint," she said, "Your bird sensed the Taint."

"You mean the disease?" Dumbledore asked, prompting her for more information.

Neria sighed, thanking her poor luck as she felt compelled to answer rather than have suspicion cast on her. "The Taint is pure evil. Corruption incarnate. We Grey Wardens take the Taint within ourselves to fight against the Darkspawn. We turn this corruption against the Darkspawn to help us fight them. That is what your bird sensed."

Said bird squawked in protest, somehow managing to melt and break free from its icy prison before flying to Dumbledore's side. The elderly mage fretted over his bird, brushing off small bits of frost from its feathers as it glared hatefully at Neria who returned the glare. With this, the Blight veterans relaxed their posture but made sure they were ready for anything.

"Albus, what's going on?" asked McGonagall, staring between Neria and Dumbledore worried and confused, "What disease and who are the Grey Wardens?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It is a difficult story, Minerva. I, myself, do not know the full extent of what is going on. Mister Potter, Neria and Morrigan will hopefully be able to shed some light on this. We will talk about it later."

With another look between Neria and Dumbledore, McGonagall said, "I understand, Albus." The Professor then turned and left the room, worry still marring her features.

Soon, they were alone. Harry still looked as dumbfounded as ever while Dumbledore looked like he had aged considerably. "If you three would kindly take a seat," he asked wearily, gesturing to the three chairs that somehow appeared out of nowhere. Harry took a seat almost at once, but Morrigan and Neria did not budge, their staves still held ready for anything, "I promise that no harm will befall you, by me or Fawkes."

The phoenix squawked defensively, flying off to a specially made perch.

Neria looked to Morrigan, who raised an eyebrow in return. Sighing, she took careful steps towards the desk and sat on one of the three chairs, though her staff was still ready for anything. The Witch of the Wilds soon followed the girl's lead, though did not take a seat.

Dumbledore looked at Morrigan expectantly, but she only returned the look with a glare. Sighing, he said, "This is the second time you have brought up the Grey Wardens. You've told me that they take this disease within themselves and fight the Darkspawn. But who are they?"

Neria stared back at the elderly mage, holding back a sighed as she decided on what she should say. After a moment of composing herself, she sat up straighter, trying to make herself appear professional and official. "In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. The Grey Wardens, as you know, are an order dedicated fighting darkspawn. Around a thousand years ago, a group of Tivinter Magisters – leaders of the Tivinter Imperium – decided to breach through the Vail and Fade – the land of dreams – to reach the Golden City of Heaven. They succeeded, but as the Chantry preaches, the Golden City became black and the Taint was unleashed upon Thedas.'

"With no knowledge on the foe we faced and no time to prepare, the first Blight was difficult to beat back, until a council of Men gathered to discuss how they were going to beat back the darkspawn, creatures created and twisted by the Taint. And from there, the Grey Wardens rose as the blazing light against the darkness. From then on, every time a new Blight was stirring on the horizon, the Grey Wardens would be there to take charge and fight them off. Men and women, of every race, of every creed, from kings and queens to murderers and rapists. We recruited all who could stand against the might of the darkspawn."

"Even children?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, not exactly," Neria began, "While the Grey Wardens accept anyone, they won't just accept anyone, they have to have some skill, some power. We don't go around and recruit the beggars off the street. As for me, I am a… special case, and I wasn't even recruited. The Rite of Conscription is an ancient rite that allows the Grey Wardens to conscript anyone into the order without question, though there would be political backlash. I had recently gone through my Harrowing when a friend of mine asked for help, it was a life and death situation and I would do anything to get back at the Circle, so I helped him. But he lied to me and fled when the plan went downhill. I was going to be executed or worse, but a Grey Warden saw my potential and conscripted me into the Wardens. I would have jumped at the chance anyway, as it was better than the Circle."

"The more I hear about this Circle, the less and less I begin to think it a school."

"It's a prison that just so happens to teach magic," Neria spat, "I don't want to talk about it if that is okay with you."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "This is troubling information…" he said, "Do you know how you two got here?"

"We told you last night," Morrigan snarked.

"You did, but I find myself at a loss as to what an Eluvian is," Dumbledore said, "Perhaps Harry, here, could shed some light. Miss Granger and Mister Weasley have given me their account, but I would like yours, specifically about what happened in the final chamber."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Nothing of the sort," he said, "I just need to know what happened."

Harry nodded awkwardly. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with remembering what happened the night before, not that she could blame him. "Um, after you left to the Ministry, we thought that Professor Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. We went to the Third Floor and got past the defences. After I took the potion from Professor Snape's riddle, I was attacked by Quirrell who told me of his plan and wanted me to get the stone," he said, before adding quickly, "But I refused. Voldemort tried to convince me to get the Stone… I looked in the mirror and… they fell out. When Quirrell attacked them, they fought back and... and killed Quirrell."

"They fell out of the Mirror of Erised?" Dumbledore said, sounding exactly like someone who had just heard someone just fell out of a mirror.

"Yes."

Dumbledore turned to the Blight veterans. "Is this true?"

Neria relaxed in her chair, "As we said yesterday. We walked through an Eluvian, and arrived here."

"May I ask what an Eluvian is?"

Neria looked to Morrigan who rolled her eyes. "The Eluvian is an old elven artefact," she said, "'Twas built long ago by the ancient elves and served as a portal to different points in Thedas… and somewhere beyond the Waking World and the Fade."

"I've never heard of the Mirror of Erised being used as such," Dumbledore hummed, gazing off into nothingness as he entered deep thought. "The Mirror's creator is unknown to us but it is quite old. Perhaps the creator found one of these Eluvians and disguised its purpose with charms. You said you walked through one of these mirrors to go somewhere, where is this place?"

"I would be able to help you if you could give me more information than that."

"We cannot," Neria said, "I apologise, ser, but I do not know you. We're lost and would not even know where to start looking for home."

"I understand," said Dumbledore tiredly, "Then may I peruse a different line of questioning?" At Neria's nod, he continued, "Why did you kill Professor Quirrell?"

Neria quirked an eyebrow, "I did not want to kill until I found out he was an Abomination. Had he not been an Abomination, I would have disabled him first for questioning.

"But why did you choose such a violent solution?" Dumbledore pressed.

"You do know what an Abomination is, right? One who is possessed by a demon."

While looking quite concerned at the mention of demons, Dumbledore decided to file that information away for later questioning, "Voldemort was, is human."

"This Quirrell was possessed by a Maleficar?" Morrigan asked.

"I wouldn't know what this is," the aged wizard said.

"A wizard who practices forbidden magic," Harry supplied, only to adding to the questioning look in Dumbledore's eyes, "They told me about it at breakfast."

"Then yes, Quirrell was possessed by a Maleficar."

It was then that Morrigan began to giggle, "'Tis amusing that wherever we go, somebody dies. Already we've spent a day in this castle and already executed someone."

This, of course, worried Dumbledore beyond belief. He was prepared to ask precisely what the Witch of the Wilds meant, but before he could, Harry shot up, "Dumbledore, what about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Unfortunately, I was unable to remove it from the Mirror," Dumbledore answered.

"But Nicholas Flamel?" Harry pressed.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "I've sent a missive to him and am awaiting his return."

"Oh."

As confused as they were as to what was going on and seeing Harry's melancholy, Neria decided to move the conversation into different waters. "So, what will happen to us?"

"The Hogwarts school year is nearly coming to an end," Dumbledore said, "In three weeks, school will end and the halls will be cleared. The students will go home."

"You let your students go home?" Neria asked.

Dumbledore only replied with a sad look.

"Of course you do. Your mages get to mingle with their families while ours are taken away from their families, guarded by people who see magic as some abomination."

Dumbledore blinked slightly confused, "Are you implying that the muggles know of magic?"

Having never heard of this term until today, Neria questioned, "Muggles?"

"Non-magical people," Harry supplied helpfully.

Neria looked to Dumbledore strangely, "Of course they know. What, are you telling me that the isolationists got their wish?"

"Around four centuries the Status of Secrecy was enacted. It meant that all aspects of magic would be kept hidden from the muggles," Dumbledore explained.

"And… this worked?" Morrigan asked.

"There have been a few attempts to unravel the masquerade," Dumbledore continued, "but the conspirators have been arrested and the muggles taken care of." He sighed. "Unfortunately, this only brings more questions than answers. It also means that you two will be unable to walk among the muggles unless you wish to get on the Ministry's bad side."

Neria groaned. "So, we have nowhere to go lest we wish to be imprisoned for breaking laws we know nothing about."

"The doors to Hogwarts will be open for you to stay until such times that we can decide on what to do next," he said grandly, "I grant you access to the library, the classrooms and the grounds. However, I must ask that you don't burn any more paintings."

"Dumbledore, it wasn't her fault. The painting said horrible things to her," said Harry.

"Be that as it may, they are priceless and a part of Hogwarts," he said sternly, "Try to ignore them as best you can and if you do run into any issues, there are ways other than burning them to silence them. I must also warn you that you should speak of this to no one; What we have said today could lead to complications should this knowledge reach the ears of the wrong people."


	3. Quidditch and Feasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the last two chapters to improve them. When I first wrote this, it was an experiment, as such, it was not that good. I’ve improved it and made it better without them reacting twice to the Grand Staircase and meeting Ron and Hermione earlier and such. I also have an endgame plan.

Two sets of footsteps clacked against the stone stairs as Neria and Morrigan descended the steps of Dumbledore’s office. Both were dismissed, leaving Harry to have what seemed like an important conversation about something or other. Now they had all of Hogwarts to explore and more to learn.

But where to go? The Blight veterans did not know. So far, the most they had planned was to privately discuss their goals for the future. And so, with this in mind, the two set off to find a quiet place to chat about their foreseeable future.

However, Neria found her eyes and ears wandering to the students around her. In their little groups, they talked, whispering about the latest gossip as they sat on the ground or walked through the halls. But that was not what drew her attention, but what they were gossiping about. It seemed, from what she could eavesdrop, that her little spat with that painting had spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. It was amusing, if in a dark way, how similar Hogwarts was to Kinloch Hold.

Upon noticing the elfin magi, whose appearance had undoubtedly been included in the gossip, they would stop speaking, turning to look at her with the subtleness of a dragon in the Chantry. Some glared at her, muttering about destruction of property or about her inhuman features – something that had caused her to almost stab one of the more vocal students; a brown-haired sot in green-lined robes – while others seemed almost impressed by her actions. Then there were the paintings who glared at her when they thought she was not looking, only to shy away upon confrontation.

_Good job, Neria. The first theodosian ever to strike fear into the hearts of paintings._

Either way, despite her amusement, it meant that people were interested in her. No longer could she just find an abandoned classroom to talk to Morrigan without the curious students compromising her privacy. With this, she realised that the best place to talk was now outside. And so, after ten to twenty minutes of wandering the halls, they finally found themselves under the bright blue sky – the sun shining in the sky as few wispy clouds floated innocently.

Where, exactly, they were in relation to the Great Hall – the best point of reference she could think off – Neria did not know. They had gone through several halls and rooms, up and down some stairs, before finding themselves in a quaint courtyard with a water fountain and some nice little flower shrubbery. Beyond the courtyard, from what she could see, lead to the green fields that she assumed surrounded Hogwarts.

The castle itself was massive, situated on a wide hill. Though its designs seemed extremely impractical – _Really? A turret tower built on a turret tower, built on a turret tower, which itself stuck out of a turret?_ – though she supposed that some form of magic was involved, not that it made her feel safer. Yet, despite the utter death-trap that called itself Hogwarts, the creamy brown stone towers and keep were still remarkable and breathtaking. But she, nor Morrigan, were here to be awed by the spectacle and instead focused on finding a privet place where they could discuss their course of action.

 A massive forest sat to the west of the grounds, if the position of the sun was any indicator, looking quite different from the Brecilian Forest and especially the Korcari Wilds. Trees that seemed to get bigger and bigger the further in you went were a common sight, and from the green tinge to the mountains in the distance, it grew far and wide. Further down the tree line, she could also spot an oversized hut surrounded by a few plants and even a large dog who seemed content to sleep on top of a wooden crate.

Following said tree line down the slope of the hill eastwards, Neria felt a shiver go down her spine. A massive lake, only a little smaller than Lake Calenhad, sat before the castle, sparkling innocently as a gentle breeze rippled the water. While she had nothing against lakes as she found them quite beautiful – and this one was no different – the simple fact that Hogwarts, an institute of magic, was situated by a massive lake, reminded her a bit too much of ‘home’. She just hoped that there was no village attached to the lakeshore somewhere.

Ignoring that to the best of her abilities, she and Morrigan continued walking until they reached the forest threshold where they could speak more privately. Once they arrived, they looked around, searching for anyone who might have been curious enough to follow the strange newcomers and see what they were up to.

When no one made themselves known, Neria began. “So… we’re screwed.”

“Really, I had no idea,” Morrigan replied dryly.

“Do you know what went wrong?” she asked.

Morrigan sighed. “Truthfully, I do not. This was not the plan at all. We were to arrive at the Crossroads, not this… _Hogwarts_ ,” She said distastefully. “Nothing I read ever mentioned this.”

“It’s alright, we can plan.”

“No! You do not understand,” Morrigan hissed, “Kieran-” She stopped abruptly as if she had said too much.

Neria blinked. “Who’s Kieran?”

“It- He is…” Morrigan said, looking like she would much rather not say. Neria was about to backtrack, informing her friend that she could tell her when ready, but before she could, Morrigan exhaled defeatedly, “He is my son.”

Neria did not respond at first, letting the weight of what was said fully register before speaking. “Alistair’s?” she asked.

“Yes,” Morrigan replied softly. “He… he is somewhere only the Crossroads could access. Twas to protect him from Mother. He is safe for the moment, but the trust I have in his carer only goes so far, especially with Mother.”

“We need to get back,” said Neria at once, all emotion leaving her face in place of complete seriousness.

“But how!?” cried Morrigan, “The Eluvian shattered, or is your memory failing?”

“I don’t know?” the Elf retorted, “We could try to repair it, or something! I remember Ander’s telling me about an elf who is attempting to rebuild an Eluvian.”

“She is there, we are here.”

“We could still try to rebuild it!” Neria pressed.

“We could or we could not,” said Morrigan, looking more vulnerable then Neria had ever seen.

Walking up to her friend, the Warden wrapped her in a tight hug. While the Witch of the Wilds tensed at first, she soon relaxed, returning the hug tenfold. “We _will_ rebuild it.” They stood like that for what seemed like ages. “But before we do,” Neria continued, removing herself from the embrace, “We need to survive. To do that, we must survive, and to do that, we need to learn about this new world. Hogwarts seems like a safe bet, it’s a school so they’d probably have a library somewhere.”

“So, to the library?” asked Morrigan.

“No,” said Neria with a shake of her head, “At the moment, I want to figure out if our new bodies will cause any issue. Shall we spar?”

“Let’s,” Morrigan replied with a shadow of a smile.

While their staves seemed heavier in their new bodies, it was a simple enough adjustment. The real issue was the size difference, making the staves unwieldy. With this in mind, they began their duel, only using low powered lightning and non-lethal spells. It would hurt, perhaps leave a small burn, but it would not kill.

At fifteen paces between the two, they stood ready to attack or deflect and for a moment, it seemed as if nobody would make the first move. Then, Neria advanced, swinging her staff as she flung three consecutive bolts of blue lightning at her friend, who backpaddled, flourishing her own staff intricately to block and dodge the attacks, returning fire with a summoned stone fist which shattered upon the Warden’s magical barrier.

With her hand, the Elf seemed to grasp at the air, acting out the motions of picking something up. This effect transferred straight to Morrigan, who found herself unexpectedly floating above the air before Neria slammed her hand down – not too quickly – sending the amber-eyed girl into the ground.

The Warden ceased her attacks for a moment, her guard up, to make sure Morrigan was not injured or anything. Her fears were abated, however, when a fist-sized ball of fire flew from the Witch’s hand. The fireball was not aimed at Neria, but the ground before here. All she could do was quickly try and Fade Step out of range, but it was too late and she suddenly found herself flung off her feet by a hot shockwave caused by the small explosion. She landed onto the ground hard, but not uninjured.

But she did not stay down, but quickly pulled herself back up, just in time as well as the ground was replaced by sharp shards of ice which exploded into existence. Her staff still in hand, she sent several more bolts of under-powered lightning at the Witch who managed to block and dodge all impeccably.

Deciding to get in closer, Neria put one of her feet forwards, once again slipping into a Fade Step to close the gap. But before she could reach her opponent, the de-aged Witch of the Wilds disappeared, leaving in her place a bear… well, more like a bear cub.

Neria could not help herself and soon fell to the floor laughing as the bear tried its best to act intimidating, but all that came from its maw were prepubescent growls and a sense of petulant anger. It appeared that age did affect them and their magic as the Warden remember that Morrigan’s bear form was much larger and far more intimidating.

When Morrigan returned to her true form, she wore the scowl of an angry child. Which, of course, was a pout. Which, of course, was adorable, leading to further laughter from the Elf. “Stop that,” snapped the amber-eyed mage.

“I’m sorry, Morrigan,” Neria said between laughs, “but you look so adorable as a baby bear!”

“Stop that!” she cried again.

“Just be glad Alistair isn’t here,” Neria said with a smirk, “He would never, ever, ever let you live this down.” Morrigan’s pout turned to a scowl. “I’d bet he’d make it a holiday, a special occasion for reminiscing on this momentous occasion.”

Glaring, Morrigan spun on her heel, beginning the walk back to Hogwarts. “I am leaving.”

The Warden frowned, then quickly chased after her friend. “Wait! Wait up! I’m sorry, I won’t tell anyone I swear,” she pleaded, stopping the Witch of the Wilds mid-step, “Please stay my friend?”

The glare softened, but still marred Morrigan’s face. “Remind me why?”

“Because your mother would still be alive?”

“Oh, Mother is still alive, but I guess you are right,” said Morrigan. “But this is enough practice, let us leave before we attract any attention.”

“To the library.” When they entered the halls of Hogwarts once again, they found that the atmosphere had quickly changed in a short time. While some still gossiped about her little bout of pyromania, others were speaking heatedly about something known as ‘Kwittedge’. Whatever the nonsesnes word meant, all Neria knew was that it was serious. Perhaps it was a duel of some kind as they mentioned someone named Gryffindor and another by the name of Ravenclaw and how they were going up against each other. But then someone mentioned Seekers and instantly her blood ran cold.

She charged up to the boy who had mentioned it, a scruffy sandy-haired student in blue-lined robes, and demanded to know what he was talking about. Once he got through the fear, the boy stammered an answer as his friends fled. “I-it’s a position in Kwittedge! T-the seekers… they catch the golden snitch!”

“Who’s the snitch?” she asked, still confused as to what was going on.

“I-it’s a-a golden ball! I’m sorry!”

Neria’s glare lasted for a moment longer, then, after settling down, she asked him to explain Kwittedge to her and Morrigan. As the boy stammered an explanation for the strange and confusing sport, the Warden could not help but regret her outburst and hope the boy was not permanently scarred. She did apologise, informing him that the word ‘Seeker’ had a different meaning from where she was from.

One the boy finished his explanation and her, her apology, Morrigan decided to pipe in. “And here I thought we were to keep a low profile, dearest sister. But here you are, accosting the youth of this world.”

“Let’s just get to the library,” she grumbled.

Smirking, Morrigan retorted, “Which we have no way of knowing where it even is.”

Swearing, Neria turned back to the boy and twisted her features to the sweetest and innocent of faces. “Could you please escort us to the library? We’re a bit lost and we would very much like to learn about this new place.”

It was almost as if the entire altercation never happened with how quickly the boy’s demeanour changed. His back straightened and his chin was held high, showing a hidden strength within. “Right this way!” he cried.

Raising an eyebrow at such a change in character, Neria followed the boy with Morrigan shadowing closely behind. As they walked through the halls, the boy could not help but run on and on about little bits of information, such as the fact that he was apparently a ‘first year,’ in Ravenclaw – which was apparently one of the four main groups in Hogwarts, with the colour lining the robes representing each group – and his own issues with navigating the castle.

Eventually, they arrived at a massive room known rightfully as the Hogwarts Library, a truly marvellous sight; thousands upon thousands of books sat upon hundreds upon hundreds of shelves. Students, mostly the older students, sat reading or studying thick tombs while others searched high and low for the right one.

Unfortunately, the first year Ravenclaw could take them no further as he needed to find his friends which were somewhere in Hogwarts. Shrugging, they let the boy leave and began to search the shelves.

However, they only managed ten feet within the library before they were stopped by an irritable looking shrivelled woman who reminded Neria of a vulture. She was dressed in a black robe with feathered plumage around the neck and a beaked pointed hat atop her short brown hair. The mystery lady was currently glaring down at Neria, for some strange reason.

Not expecting such hostility, Neria went to ask what was wrong, but before she could get even a single syllable out, the mage spoke. “I’ve heard a little rumour about you, young lady,” she said tersely, “If I find a single singe on any page, you will be banned from entering my library permanently.”

The urge to laugh showed its ugly face. For whatever reason, the Elf just found the entire situation hilarious. Nonetheless, she did not let herself break down into childish hysterics; she worked in the Ferelden courts after all. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, betraying no hints of amusement.

The mage seemed placated by her words, saying, “If you require help finding anything, do not yell, but come find me,” before stalking off.

And with the libraries abrupt departure, Morrigan and Neria were free to roam the shelves, looking for anything that may help them survive in the new world they find themselves in. As it turned out, it was quite easy to find books. What’s more, they seemed to be written in the King’s tongue.

…

Hours past and Neria felt a headache begin to affect her ability to read. It was quite the annoying thing, but the script, while written in the King’s tongue, seemed to be too fanciful it proved a tad difficult to read, not that it was impossible. Nonetheless, when she heard a few students mention that it was dinner time, she found herself remarkably hungry.

Morrigan was asleep next to her, not for fault of laziness or anything. It just seemed that she was tired. When she woke her friend, the girl responded in groaned retorts that Neria found adorable. But dinner was dinner and she was hungry. “Morrigan, so help me if you do not wake up I will find some ink and draw inappropriate things on your face.”

A single amber eye snapped open, glaring at the Elf. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would I?” Neria replied with an impish smirk. “I’m a Grey Warden, we take our food very seriously and you know what I’m like when I’m hungry.”

“Fine. Let’s go gorge ourselves.” Morrigan pulled herself from the couch she sat on, stretching and stifling a yawn. With that, she and the Warden put back their books and marched to the Great Hall.

Dinner was a pleasant affair with an even larger banquet of food set out for the masses of students. The room was filled with a loud buzzing as students discussed everything from exams to the latest gossip – from a strange elfish newcomer burning a painting to the latest break up scandal – it was almost like she was back in the tower… without all the Templars.

However, before they could even begin to dig in, Dumbledore wished to say a few words. He stood behind a gilded podium with a grand owl motif, silencing the entire room with the airs of a grandfatherly old man. “A little unorthodox, but I have something to say before we dig into our meals. I am sure you have noticed the absence of our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and two new faces wandering the halls. I am also sure that some of you have heard some rumours as to the little escapade that three of our students went on last night.”

He paused, letting what he had said wash over the hall. “I am here to shed some light on these new developments before we begin. First, I must inform you of Professor Quirrell’s unfortunate passing. His death, as our esteemed Madam Pomfrey has found, was inevitable. He had been possessed by an evil spirit which resulted in irreversible damage to his body.”

The school, being filled with hundreds of young children, reacted as was expected: Shocked gasps and the hum of speculative whispering. After a moment, Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing the entire school once again.

“This spirit compelled him to try and steal a peculiar little object known as the Philosopher’s Stone,” He continued, “However, he was stopped by the timely intervention from three of our students from Hogwarts and our newcomers – Neria and Morrigan Serana. Regrettably, the Philosopher’s Stone was lost in the ensuing fight along with Professor Quirrell. For now, Defence Against the Dark Art’s class will be cancelled until next year and the Serana sisters will be staying here until further notice. It would be best that you do not disturb them, as I am sure you have heard the rumours about their fiery personalities. But away from these dark matters. For now, eat! Tomorrow, the Quidditch cup will be decided and then, the House cup.”

Dumbledore returned to his throne-like chair at the table on the dais, also known as the Staff table, letting the students run amok with the newest gossip. Neria ignored most of the white noise, focusing on the meal before them, but she could not help but twitch as eyes found themselves wandering to her and her friend. Though, the eyes were mainly on her, especially considering the amount of food piled on her plate. When prompted by one of the Gryffindor’s who had said something along the lines of, “Save some for the rest of us,” she responded with a glare. It was not her fault Grey Warden’s needed lots of food.

Once she finished her meal, surprisingly, before most others, she stood up from her chair with a murmured ‘excuse me’ and began walking to the Staff table, drawing the eyes of several people within the Hall, including the teachers. Ignoring the stares easily enough, she walked up to Dumbledore who gave a questioning look.

“Do you still have the pieces of the Eluvian?” she asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, I do,” replied Dumbledore, “May I ask why?”

Neria’s looked blankly at the aged wizard. “We will be repairing it. An issue has recently arisen that requires our attention.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “What is the issue?”

“Family,” she replied cooly, “We planned on using the Eluvian’s to meet up with a family member to act as protection, but we're here while he is there. Someone is after him, someone incredibly dangerous and his carer has no way of protecting him. We need to get back as soon as possible.”

“I understand and shall deal with this,” replied Dumbledore seriously.

“Thank you.” Neria returned to the Gryffindor table and told Morrigan of what had transpired, which earned her a quiet thank you. Thankfully, dinner soon ended.

The students were whisked away while Neria and Morrigan were guided by a much too serious man who reminded the Warden of a bat in the way his robes – proper black robes – billowed in the non-existent wind. If it were not for the greasy black mane that ruined the image. All she knew of the man was that his name was Professor Snape, and that was all he would share.

Their journey ended five floors from the ground, outside a small chamber which were to be their personal quarters. “The headmaster has told me that if you require anything more, his door will always be open,” he drawled before spinning on the spot and leaving the two.

Neria only raised an eyebrow at the strange greasy man before turning back to the chamber.

Inside, there was a lit fireplace against the right wall, crackling satisfyingly, with two couch chairs sitting before it. On the right, there was a wide window with a table and chairs underneath. And finally, in the centre were two doors which, upon opening, revealed two separate bedrooms with a large canopied bed in the centre and a small bookcase and chair off on the side. However, only one had a window.

With two beds to choose from, Neria let Morrigan choose first. Which, unsurprisingly, was the one closest to the window.

And with that, they went to bed.

\---

In the morn, Neria found she had two issues to face. Firstly, was the fact her messy hair was only being held together by her braids. It was annoying, to say the least. It was halfway through their year-long attempt to end the Blight when the hornless Qunari Sten had offered to braid her hair – for purely practical battle reasons, of course – and since then, she had it braided in that style. Fortunately, before the Battle for Denerim, Leliana had learned to braid her hair from Sten so when he returned to the Qunari, she could continue to wear it in that style.

Now, though? She was without anyone to braid. With this sad thought, she untied her hair, letting it hang free. While most would have thought the Warden-Commander should have short hair, shoulder length at least, Neria prided herself on her long hair. It might have a higher upkeep, but it was one of the few things she could get away with having in the Circle – a place where every action is monitored and controlled with hostility, it was one of the few aspects she could have without repercussions.

The second thing was much more important as it was prevalent everywhere and was beginning to fray her nerves as people kept on going on and on and on about Quidditch – something she found she was mentally spelling wrong since reading about it in a book. Neria never liked rowdiness, preferring to stay away from a lot of noise, and Quidditch brought just that as the sport seemed to whip people up into a frenzy.

However, with the advent of Quidditch she was introduced to another aspect of the magical culture of this new world: Flying broomsticks. The day before, she had the basics of Quidditch explained, but the broomsticks were conspicuously left out. “So, let me get this straight,” Neria said to the Gryffindors during breakfast in the Great Hall, “You have magical flying brooms and you play sports on them high in the air.”

Fred – Or was it George? – Was the first to speak, “I’m not sure what’s harder to believe.”

The other twin, so really, it did not matter if she did not know the names, spoke next. “The fact that you don’t know what a flying broom is.”

“Or your lack of Quidditch knowledge,” Surprisingly, it was not either of the Weasley twins who spoke, but a taller man who had the unfortunate, yet amusing, last name of Wood. Oliver Wood was currently looking between the two girls as if they were some sort of abomination that came from the depths of the deep roads, “What do people play from where you’re from?” he pressed, sounding incredibly concerned for the girls.

“There’s the Tourneys, but we have horses for that…” answer Neria, fighting back the urge to ask if they actually had horses.

“You know how to ride a horse?” one of the Gryffindor girls asked curiously.

Unfortunately, Hermione’s overshadowed her question with one of her own. “Wait, wait, tourneys?” she asked, “Like jousting and knights?”

“Yes, though I’ve never partaken of the sport, or any such thing really.”

While most at the table looked confused at the mention of tourneys, they decided to not press the subject. Why? Well, according to one of the so-called wizards, it was the fact that it was not Quidditch. Therefore, it was inferior. Though she was stopped by at least two of the girls who professed an interest in what it was like to ride a horse, to gallop through grasslands and all that other romanticised drivel.

Unfortunately, Morrigan was nearby and quickly stomped on whatever dreams they had of riding the beast of burden by explaining the issues and pain involved for first-timers. Upon seeing the heartbroken expressions on the girls, Neria felt obliged to lessen the hit the Witch of the Wilds had delivered and explained that it can be fun once you learn and have proper control.

While still feeling the sting from the reality Morrigan had given, they left in higher spirits then they would have had Neria left her friend to her devices.

Eventually, however, Quidditch began. The entirety of the school filed out of the castle and taken to a massive stadium nearby where they were split based on their house, each continuing to express their excitement over the upcoming game. Naturally, as Gryffindor was the only house – aside from that one Ravenclaw – that they had any connection to, they joined their stand, squished between a few fanatical fans of Quidditch who had decorated their faces with red war paint.

Neria would have found herself immensely amused by that if only everyone around her would silence. The entire stadium was in uproar, and the game had not even started yet! Those donned in the blue of Ravenclaw and the green of Slytherin were chanting “Ravenclaw, make them sore!” while the Hufflepuff’s and Gryffindor's returned fire with chants of “Gryffindor, hear them roar!”

The atmosphere was so charged with tension that she felt fights might break out unless someone took control of the situation. Luckily, they did not need to.

The Quidditch teams, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor walked out onto the pitch with their broomsticks in hand, silencing the crowed _marginally_. They continued until they reached a white-haired lady in black and white robes. She could not see much from this distance, nor hear much, but soon the teams kicked off into the air on their brooms, which, remarkably, levitated in the air.

Despite being told before, Neria could not help but show her surprise at the magic. Had the Circle found a way to produce flying broomsticks, it would cause uproar beyond belief. Though, it was possible some hedge mages might have discovered the secret. The Warden still found herself preferring her crow form, though. _So_ much easier to control.

And then, the black and white donned lady threw the different balls into the air and the games begin.  The Commentator, a Gryffindor, was shouting and screaming as he described the events as they unfolded. And within the first few minutes of hearing him, his clear bias towards his own house showed. Neria frowned at this, assuming quite rightly that the Commentator should be neutral in that regard.

Nevertheless, the game continued unperturbed. Her eyes, far better than humans, could spot Harry hanging high in the sky, himself trying to spot any hint of fluttering gold as his team below battled it out against the Ravenclaws.

With only a rudimentary understanding of the game, Neria could only follow with the blaring Commentator’s narration of the game. It was like being back at Denerim or Ostagar, hearing the screams and cries of several beings across the field, but worse. At least during the battles, she knew what to do, she could zone out and focus on her goal. But here, she could do nothing but try to find the snitch herself, which was proving difficult as she would be occasionally jostled by one of the rowdier Gryffindor’s shouting praise for the game.

The players swooped and zoomed, the Beaters swinging their bats to try and take out their foes – which, the more she thought about it, unnerved the Elf – while the Chasers tried desperately to win points for their teams. It was starting to get too much for her, as the screams picked up as Ravenclaw scored another ten points, giving them a twenty-point head start against Gryffindor’s fifty. Yet, despite this, it only seemed to strengthen the resolve of Gryffindor whose voices grew louder as their chant tore from their throats.

The Ravenclaw’s gave as good as they got, performing a strange group that created a ripple effect within the audience. Neria supposed it worked the same way as their chants and cheers, but still found it odd.

The Commentator cried out again, Gryffindor scored another goal, before abruptly cutting off as he started screaming about the two Seekers who were racing each other.

A glint of gold and her eyes locked on.

The snitch.

Neria faintly smiled, hoping this game would end. The two Seekers had spotted the snitch, one would catch it and the shouting would thankfully end. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Just as the two became neck and neck, both inches away from getting the snitch, a bludger flashed past.

The Seekers backpaddled, trying to save their respected arms from the iron balls of death. But in return, both teams seemed to have lost sight of the snitch.

Once again, the two flew into the air and began to search for the golden orb like eagles.

Neria could not take it any longer. The shouting and screaming, it was becoming too much. Abruptly she sat up from the bleachers, holding her ringing ears with her staff between her elbow and marched down the stairs, her quick breathing overshadowed by the audience. Morrigan, having noticed her friends discomfort, followed, taking the Warden’s staff in hand and assisting the girl down the stairs.

For that, Neria was thankful.

As they made their way back to the Hogwarts castle, the stadium lit up in mighty roars of victory, the faint screams of ‘Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup’ drifting to their ears.

Hopefully, Quidditch was not a compulsory event.


End file.
